


smoke on the water (a fire on the sea)

by Jinx72



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Drowning, F/M, Fire, Sea Hawk is very musical, Sea Shanties, a boat burns down if you're worried about the fire tag, and by many i mean four, disapproval of relationships, goddamn a lot goes down in a very short time my bad, he can play many instruments, i dont know if i need to tag that but oh well, pre-canon??, they're both younger in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: Mermista could very clearly remember the first time Sea Hawk burnt his boat to the ground.She remembered it because as an experience, it didn’t fit with all the other times she has held the flushing pirate captain in her arms as she watched the ash settle to the sea floor. Because after experiencing that, watching the flamboyance and impartiality Sea Hawk always displayed watching another boat sink always unsettled her.---In which Mermista meets the pirate captain, his boat meets its end, and some bonding happens in the middle of some odd circumstances. Also sea shanties.





	smoke on the water (a fire on the sea)

Mermista could very clearly remember the first time Sea Hawk burnt his boat to the ground.

She remembered it because as an experience, it _didn’t fit_ with all the other times she has held the flushing pirate captain in her arms as she watched the ash settle to the sea floor. Because after experiencing that, watching the flamboyance and impartiality Sea Hawk always displayed watching another boat sink always unsettled her.

It was an older boat. She couldn’t remember its name, wasn’t sure if Sea Hawk ever actually told her before its unfortunate and untimely demise. But it was old. Made of _wood,_ of all things, rather than the opalescent panelling they used nowadays. Its sails were ancient canvas, its wood aged from years under the hot sea sun, and decades of barnacles clinging to its sides. It had a mermaid figurehead. That was what had attracted her to it in the first place.

Her father had still been in power. She couldn’t remember how old she had been, how old they both had been. It must’ve been at least five years ago. They might’ve been fifteen, at the time.

She had darted through the water, pulling up alongside this old vessel to investigate the figurehead when a cheerful voice had called out to her, invited her on board. A young Sea Hawk, moustache-less but no less handsome for it, hair held back by a bandana and all alone on board. He seemed like an outsider. A traveller. A fascinating boy, who had wild stories and nice songs.  
Every night, he would sit up in the rigging with his feet dangling over the edge and sing, with a different musical instrument each time. He had a beat-up fiddle. He had a tinny old trumpet that sounded like a seagull. He had a weathered harmonica that he always seemed to draw the saddest melodies out of. But the one he seemed proudest of was an accordion.  
Mermista had never seen an instrument like it before, or since. It was a pair of bellows with a keyboard attached, seemingly a portable pipe organ of sorts. Sea Hawk explained it to her, showed her how to play it as they sat on deck together as the sun went down, and a messenger from the king sailed out to them to request that this wayward sailor _please return the princess under His Majesty the king’s orders_ and Mermista was forced to take her leave. Her father would warn her about Sea Hawk, about ‘men like him,’ but Sea Hawk was not a ‘man like that.’  
He didn’t have it in him to be ‘like that.’

One night, they had been sitting on deck, Sea Hawk serenading her with increasingly ridiculous lyrics until Mermista shut it down, fearing the whole harbour would witness this destruction of her reputation. It didn’t seem to phase him, his laughter ringing out across the sea. In his lap sat the old trumpet, that despite its appalling state he somehow managed to wring some tunes out of it. He had begun to play a surprisingly sad song, somehow still beautiful despite the instrument in his hands. Mermista sat back, resting on her hands and smiling into the evening sunlight that kissed her face, because she couldn’t imagine a better end to the day.  
There was the splash of something suddenly surfacing, and a voice shouting, “Princess Mermista!”  
They both jumped. Sea Hawk’s elbow caught something, a lantern sitting next to him. It fell to the deck with a clatter even as they looked down to see an annoyed looking royal messenger.  
“Princess, yet _again,_ it’s time to…” the messenger started, before the irritation on his face melted into _fear,_ and he pointed behind the sailor beside her. “Fire!”  
_Fire?_  
Fire was not something Mermista was very familiar with, because fire and the sea didn’t make sense together. Didn’t compute. So to turn and see flames spilling out of the shattered lantern and licking the aged wooden boards of the deck beside her, Mermista simply stared for a moment, entranced, curious and terrified.  
It was hot. It was hot just like the ocean wasn’t.  
She didn’t know what to do.

Sea Hawk acted first.  
He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her overboard. The moment of weightlessness was so disorientating, before she hit the surf with a _splash_ and suddenly she was safe again, welcomed into the loving arms of the ocean.  
She expected Sea Hawk to follow.  
There was a mighty splash as the lifeboat crashed into the waves, ropes cut loose and writhing from released tension like snakes. There was a metallic clatter as the boat hit the surf; Mermista stuck her head over the top to find no Sea Hawk, but only his battered trumpet.  
She looked up in time to see him turn and run through the flames, into the cabin of the ship.  
“Sea Hawk!”  
Someone was shouting his name.  
Mermista had a suspicion it might’ve been her.

Using the water to propel her upwards, Mermista rose through the air in time to see him disappear inside, neck-kerchief pulled up over his mouth as a futile guard from the smoke.  
“Sea Hawk!”  
She touched down on deck, shying away from the flames and the frantic shouts of her escort, but she raised her chin and her hands, and brought sea water down over the deck.  
It wasn’t enough.  
Even dampened like that, it didn’t do much to stop the flames. She wasn’t yet old enough, powerful enough to douse the entire ship. She wasn’t strong enough to save it.  
But maybe she could save Sea Hawk.  
She ran through the flames as well, because she really didn’t like the fact that Sea Hawk had yet to emerge. Tucking her chin into her elbow, Mermista wheezed through the smoke and blinked through the stinging eyes.  
“Sea Hawk!”  
“Mermista!”  
A faint reply, but a reply none the less.

She found herself running towards it despite the fire so close behind. She could feel her skin blistering, her hair singeing. She had never been more terrified in her life. But she pressed on, barging into a smoke-filled room with a Sea Hawk who was struggling to load things into a chest.  
“What are you doing, you idiot?! We have to go!” Mermista hollered through the haze, chest tight and throat burning.  
“Not without my-”  
His last words were silenced by the deafening roar of the flames behind them. A heavy beam fell from the ceiling less than a metre away from Mermista.  
Screaming in terror, Mermista rushed over to Sea Hawk, taking his possessions and shoving them in the chest indelicately. They clattered and crackled and made other uncomfortable sounds that made them sound like whatever they were, they were no longer in one piece, but Mermista was well past caring. Sea Hawk heaved one last thing into the chest and slammed it closed, it locking in place before he heaved it up. The floor, dripping with fire, was beginning to crumble apart below them.  
Mermista raised a hand, and used a powerful geyser of water to break the cabin’s outer wall down, exposing them to fresh sea air even as the flames surged forward with new oxygen to feed them.  
“Let’s go!”  
She dragged him along, across the room as the floorboards fell out from under them, through the air as the fire billowed out behind them, and into the cold ocean waters.  
Mermista landed her dive delicately, breaking the surface easily, already babbling placations to her escort and the fifty other people who had arrived in a panic to help the princess.  
Sea Hawk sunk like a stone.  
He wasn’t strong enough to bring the chest up with him. Not a powerful enough swimmer to save both it and him.  
It took Mermista a few precious seconds to realise that Sea Hawk had not surfaced yet.  
It took a few seconds more to dive down after him, watching that coat trailing down into the depths, watching that fluttering red kerchief disappear into darkness.  
Her mermaid tail let her easily catch up. But even as he was running out of breath, even as Sea Hawk was _literally drowning,_ Mermista could not make him drop that damned chest. So she scooped him and it up and shot up towards the surface.  
Her escort had wisely moved the lifeboat away from the now sinking wreck of what had been Sea Hawk’s ship, a perfect place for Mermista to dump this stupid sailor and his stupid chest.  
Sea Hawk vomited water over the side for an alarming amount of time, before collapsing into the bottom on the rowboat with a groan.  
“Princess Mermista!” the messenger shouted, by her side in a flash. “Are you al-”  
The ship exploded.  
In panic, the two members of the royal court dove below the waves as a rush of flames shot outwards, a great ball of fire enveloping what was left of the craft as it suck below the surf.  
When Mermista surfaced, Sea Hawk was gripping the side of the lifeboat with white-knuckle force, sobbing and staring in horror as his boat was destroyed.  
She thought he cried out the vessel’s name. She couldn’t remember what it was.

Sea Hawk had refused help on the way back to shore, even from any of the mariners or king’s officers who’d come to rescue them. He was silent and sullen, quiet tears streaming down his face. He had to stop to throw up over the side of the lifeboat three times before he made it back to shore.  
Mermista had been whisked off as soon as she had surfaced that second time, catching only a glimpse of a grieving Sea Hawk still rowing into port before her escort grew to twenty guards and she was back in the palace being treated for burns before she could even comprehend what had happened.  
Sea Hawk had fainted by the time he’d reached land. Mermista requested he be treated in the palace’s infirmary.  
Her father nearly denied her that, threatening to throw this sailor into the dungeons instead for all the damage he had ‘done to his daughter.’  
The key word was _nearly._

The first thing Sea Hawk had blurted out when he woke was whether she was okay. The second was about his chest.  
This damn chest. What was in that damned chest that was so important?  
But still, Mermista had it brought to him, helped him open the waterlogged thing from his bed in the infirmary and watched his face fall at the sight of what was inside.  
She felt guilty now she saw it.

His musical instruments. The trumpet had been set by his bedside, easy enough to recover. The harmonica was rusty, but didn’t seem too badly damaged. But the violin and the accordion…  
The violin was the more bearable one to describe. Its bow had snapped. There was a great crack running up the length of the body, nearly splitting the instrument in two, and the knot at the top had split.  
But the accordion, Mermista could barely look at.  
Torn and dented and cracked, waterlogged, busted, damaged so _much_ it looked impossible to repair. Mermista found her eyes fixed firmly out the window, out at the harbour, eyes locking onto the spot where the ship had sunk.  
Sea Hawk had stared at his instruments, his prized possessions, for what felt like hours, before he let out a quiet keen, and shamelessly broke down into tears.

She’d tried to offer to replace them. That only made him cry harder. She’d offered so much, a new ship, new instruments, a crew, anything to try and console him, but Sea Hawk could only shake his head through his sobs.  
“What can I do?” Mermista asked finally, ideas having run dry and the guilt stabbing her in the gut so relentlessly.  
He requested one thing.  
“A room,” he asked through hiccups. “Just one room, it doesn’t have to be big, where I can put my things. To keep them safe.”

She could do that for him.

For the next few weeks as he recovered, Mermista saw him around the castle with armfuls of supplies. A can of paint here, a set of screwdrivers there. A roll of canvas. A couple piano keys. And for hours upon hours he’d disappear into his room.  
It was on the opposite side of the castle from her chambers. A tiny room. A narrow cot had been crammed in one corner, and a low desk took up most of the space. Her father kept her wrapped up in her duties more intensely than ever, most likely on purpose. She only ever caught glimpses of him in the halls. Brief smiles exchanged as they passed.  
She was frightfully curious about what was going on in that room of his.  
The kitchen staff, for Sea Hawk’s room was very close by, told Mermista he was very helpful, and his singing always made the kitchen feel more lively. The cleaning staff loved him. The guards didn’t mind him, but on the whole thought he was a little too full on.  
Her father was getting increasingly more and more frustrated with him.  
“He’s going to have to leave,” he warned her through gritted teeth. “Deal with him before I kick him out.”

Mermista didn’t know where she was going to send him. The only home Sea Hawk had was lying on the sea floor in a hundred charred pieces. But she refused to simply put him out to the streets!  
She ambled through the vast corridors of her father’s palace, trying to formulate a plan, not taking any notice of her surroundings.  
Then, she heard singing.  
It was certainly one of the shanties that Sea Hawk had tried to teach her weeks ago. But it was not his voice alone. It sounded like he’d amassed a choir from gods-knew-where.  
Her feet led her to the kitchen, and she found herself in the doorway watching Sea Hawk, standing in his socks on one of the counters, fist raised in musical joy with tens of ecstatic kitchen staff, all clapping and banging pots with wooden spoons and singing without a care in the world.  
They fell silent as Sea Hawk sang the hook of the verse, arms extended like he was sweeping the whole world into his breast. Then the crowd roared into life, filling in the refrain with open and ringing harmonies that filled the room and spilled out into the corridor.  
_“Heave a pawl, o heave away, weigh, hey, roll and go! The anchor’s on board and the cables are stored to be rollicking randy-dandy-o!”_  
A smile crept onto Mermista’s face as the princess leant on the doorframe, folding her arms and watching Sea Hawk raise his harmonica to his lips and play along, stamping his foot to keep them in time.  
Mermista had never seen anything like it.  
Slowly, the staff began to notice her, the voices beginning to peter out nervously until it was just Sea Hawk and his harmonica.  
It took him a moment to realise that it had turned into a solo, and he tensed up. His back was to the door. Mermista rolled her eyes kindly and waited with a smirk as Sea Hawk slowly pivoted on his heels, an apologetic grimace already on his face.  
The relief that melted that expression into a bright grin warmed her heart.  
“Mermi-! Ah, I mean, uh, Princess!” he exclaimed, fumbling to cover up his informality despite the fact that everyone in the room was more than aware of their friendship. “It’s been a while!”  
“It has,” Mermista agreed dryly. She raised a single eyebrow at him. “Are you going to keep standing on the table, or do you want to give them an excuse to kick you out?”  
The kitchen staff looked nervous at that.  
Sea Hawk laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Of course, princess,” he agreed. “Stand back!”  
As a space cleared at the foot of the table, Sea Hawk threw himself into an _entirely_ unnecessary but _extremely_ impressive backflip, landing on the tiled floor with the grace of a trapeze artist.  
The kitchen staff burst into thunderous applause, and Sea Hawk took a deep bow, his smile not fading.  
Loud, brisk footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder. Someone was approaching. Fast. The clapping died away. Sea Hawk straightened up, shoving his harmonica into his pocket. Mermista stood up straight, moving to stand next to Sea Hawk.  
A moment later, the king himself appeared in the doorway.

He glowered at the kitchen staff, who cowered away and quickly returned to their tasks, glancing fearfully between the sailor and the monarch, falling over each other as they tried to put their ramshackle percussion instruments back on the pot racks they came from. Mermista raised her chin at her father, who regarded her with a _we-need-to-talk-later_ look, before fixing Sea Hawk with a cold stare, colder than the deepest ocean depths.  
Sea Hawk merely stood up straighter, and met the king’s coldness with an unbeatable warmth that Mermista could only associate with him.  
“What was that racket you were causing?” the king snarled, curling his lip at the young sailor.  
Sea Hawk raised his chin. “Sea shanties, your majesty,” he replied evenly, folding his hands behind his back and bowing slightly. “We sing them on the open waters to help us focus on our tasks. I thought it might help your crew.”  
“Crew,” the king scoffed, leaning down over Sea Hawk and sneering in his face. “This isn’t some scummy fishing boat, Hawk. This is a royal palace.”  
“I’m aware,” Sea Hawk replied.  
The king raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Your majesty,” Sea Hawk tacked on as an afterthought.  
As much as Mermista admired bravery, there was bravery and then there was the stupidity Sea Hawk was displaying right there and now, backtalking her father. She opened her mouth to speak, but her father cut her off.  
“You’ve overstayed your welcome, pirate,” the king spat, straightening back up and turning away. “I’m giving you two hours to get your things and get out. You’ve caused enough disturbances in my palace for a lifetime.”  
There was an ocean of murmurs that sprung to life from the kitchen staff. It almost looked like they were about to say something. The king silenced them with a glare. “Any comments?” he snapped, his face cold and impassive.  
Sea Hawk swallowed, but didn’t look away. “No, your majesty,” he said, but Mermista could read the tenseness in his shoulders. “Clear as crystal.”  
“Excellent.”  
The king then turned and left in a flutter of cyan velvet and gold.  
Mermista watched him leave, mouth agape, flushing with anger. “He can’t say that!” she growled, balling her hands into fists and doing her best to control herself even though she felt like wrenching the water she could feel flowing through the pipes straight out of the walls.  
“He can,” Sea Hawk said dryly, in a tone that shocked her. “And he did. Walk with me, Mermista.”

They left a silent kitchen, but as they rounded the corner, a whistle from the back of the room started – the tune they’d been singing but minutes ago. A chorus of hums and whistles and rumbles built as they walked away. But this time, there was no joy.  
It sounded like a funeral march.

Sea Hawk sighed as they walked, running a hand through his hair as he lead her onwards.  
“You okay?” Mermista asked, before kicking herself at the dumb question. Of course he wasn’t. But Sea Hawk turned the wattage of his smile back up to full and grinned at her.  
“Of course,” he chirped.  
It seemed fake.  
“Really?” Mermista pressed, concern placing a crease in her brow.  
Sea Hawk’s smile faltered. His shoulder sagged. “I will be,” he amended quietly. “Don’t you worry about me.”  
Regardless, Mermista did worry. But she didn’t have a chance to bring it up before Sea Hawk came to a halt in front of the door of his room. He pushed it open for her, and Mermista stepped in. Her eyes wandered all around – she finally got to see his room and she was not really surprised. It was cluttered. Bits and pieces of _stuff_ cast all over the place. But the bed was made. Nothing was dusty. It looked well lived in.  
Sea Hawk slipped past her and closed the door behind him.  
“Before I go,” he said softly, standing over the desk. His back was to her. “I wanted to show you what I have been working on.”  
“Of course,” Mermista replied, folding her arms across her chest, trying not to let her voice shake. She didn’t want him to leave. She really didn’t. Two hours wasn’t enough.  
He picked something up and turned to her. His shoulders were hunched, he seemed shy, and a nervous little smile graced his face.  
Mermista smiled as best she could, before looking down at the object in his hands.

The accordion.

It was as good as new, if not better. In better spec than she had ever seen it. The keys were a mishmash of faded yellow ivory and bright iridescent white. The canvas was a patchwork of other colours, but in one piece. And Sea Hawk had repainted it. Sea green and gold.  
Mermista cast a critical eye down to her own clothing, and then back up to Sea Hawk’s now red face. “I had inspiration,” he muttered weakly as an excuse.  
“Does it still play?” Mermista asked, smirking at his flustered expression.  
Sea Hawk’s eyes shone with pride as he hefted the instrument in his hands, and then he began to play.

If anything, it sounded better than before. Mermista’s mouth was hanging open as Sea Hawk played, slowly at first, before ramping up the speed more and before it was _stupidly_ fast. Then he hit a wrong note, causing him to laugh loudly at himself as he came to a screeching halt.  
“What do you think?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. He was watching her face closely.  
Mermista let her awe show plain on her face. “That’s amazing,” she said bluntly. “Just… well done.”  
That smile. That damn smile that was brighter than a million suns blinded her.  
“Thank you!” he chirped.  
Was Mermista blushing? She hoped not. And yet her cheeks were warm. Warm in the way that she could only associate with Sea Hawk.  
“Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled, turning away so as to preserve her emotional invulnerability. “When we’re done, meet me at the docks in two hours, okay? I have somethings for you.”

Sea Hawk was early. He was sitting on the edge of the wharf, his chest of belongings beside him when Mermista, flanked by guards, arrived, hiding something behind her back. He was humming to himself, a sad tune that Mermista almost recognised. But her footsteps caused his head to snap around, and something in her chest tugged at the way Sea Hawk’s face lit up. The sailor leapt to his feet, snapping to attention, but unable to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
“Afternoon, Princess!” he chirped.  
Mermista made herself smile and fought down the waves of nervousness plaguing her gut. “Hey, Sea Hawk,” she replied, toeing the ground. “So, I have some things for you.”  
Sea Hawk’s eyes softened, and his bouncing stopped. “Mermista, you didn’t need to give me a thing,” he reprimanded.  
“Yeah, whatever.”  
She pointed to a boat across the docks. It was gleaming white, with gold and sea-green accents. Its sail hung limply in the dead air, and she tossed from side to side gently in the calm bay. At her nod, one of Mermista’s servants smashed a pre-prepared bottle of champagne on the hull.  
“So, like, that’s yours,” Mermista stated, staring at the ship, and not Sea Hawk.  
Despite that, she didn’t miss how Sea Hawk’s eyes widened in shock, how his head snapped towards her with tears beginning to form, before he turned back to the boat like he was drawn by a magnet, taking a few enchanted steps forward.  
“Mine?” he echoed.  
“If you want it,” Mermista drawled in response, risking a glance at the sea captain.  
He took a few more halting steps towards it, before losing some battle with himself and charging down the docks towards it, with a vigour Mermista had always thought was saved for small children and people who had just escaped death.  
Mermista followed him, wordlessly instructing a guard to bring Sea Hawk’s stuff with them, before jogging along behind, tailed by a clanking retinue as Sea Hawk leapt aboard, and climbed the rigging like a spider monkey, shielding his eyes from the sun to admire the sea from a high vantage point.  
Mermista looked up at him, and refused to admit that it may have been in awe.  
For the first time since the day he lost his ship, Sea Hawk looked at home.  
The tension had drained from his shoulders. The darkness had lifted from his brow. He had his face turned to the sun like a cat, beaming from ear to ear as he drank it all in.  
And then in a flash, he was down the rigging so quickly Mermista could have sworn he fell. They watched him take his things from the guard, setting them down on the deck before starting to scarper around, admiring and investigating the craft with a swiftness that almost set Mermista at ease.  
Her grip on the case behind her back tightened.  
Almost.  
“Sea Hawk?” she called, and immediately, Sea Hawk skidded to a halt before waltzing over to her, literally, which she elected to ignore.  
“Yes, Mermi- I mean, Princess?” he inquired with a smile, leaning on the side of the ship in a way he probably thought was suave.  
“I got one last thing for you,” Mermista stated, fighting down a flush. “A last repayment, if you will.”  
She watched the confusion in his eyes as she took a steadying breath, and presented the case.  
The violin case.

It had been her mother’s. Her mother used to play to her almost every night when Mermista was little, but she’d passed before she had the chance to teach her. So it sat, in the back of Mermista’s wardrobe. She used to try and ask her dad to play to her, because her mother had once told her he could, and he had always refused. So there it had sat, gathering dust. Until today. Mermista could never bring herself to learn, but…  
She let Sea Hawk take it, watched him open the case slowly, reverently.  
“Mermista, are you sure?”  
His voice was so soft. Tentative.  
“Yeah,” she heard herself say. “Wouldn’t be giving it to you if I wasn’t.”  
She watched him kneel, watched him set it carefully on the deck, extracting the violin with utmost delicacy, the awe plain on his face.  
“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “I can’t take this, Mermista.”  
“It’s gonna sit gathering dust in my wardrobe if you don’t,” she commented, investigating her nails intently. “Take it.”  
Sea Hawk watched her face closely for a moment. Mermista didn’t meet his eyes.  
“Alright,” he agreed, carefully putting it back in its case. “Thank you so much, Mermista. I don’t know what to say.”  
“Well,” Mermista said, letting her hand fall to her side. “It’s an apology. And a thank you. A-and a goodbye.”  
She hated that. She hated she had to say goodbye. Sure, Sea Hawk was loud, somewhat obnoxious and at times overbearing, she loved having him around.  
She loved-  
No. Nope. Not going there.  
Sea Hawk didn’t rise from the deck, but took her hand and looked up at her adoringly.  
“I can’t thank you enough, Princess,” he gushed, and his shining eyes told her that Sea Hawk was being utterly open.  
She felt herself smiling despite everything. “Just don’t burn this one down, okay?”  
The words were out of her mouth before she regulated whether she should say them or not. To her relief, Sea Hawk burst out laughing, rising to his feet.  
“No promises,” he said.  
They heard a great number of footsteps, before they turned to see the King himself and a great number of guards with him coming to a stop on the dockside. The King was standing impatiently, staring at them, glaring daggers.  
Mermista realised she was still holding Sea Hawk’s hand.  
Sea Hawk snatched his hand back in an instant, shooting her a most apologetic look.  
“I’ll look after it,” he promised in a low voice.  
“And yourself, of course,” Mermista followed up. “Not that I care, or anything.”  
“No,” Sea Hawk smiled. “Of course not.”  
The King cleared his throat stiffly.  
Sea Hawk sighed.  
“And alas, I must be off!” he declared, slinging the case over his shoulder and leaping onto the rigging. He pressed a hand to his temple dramatically. “I thank ye all for your kindness and hospitality-”  
The King scoffed.  
“And I leave with great fondness and longing in my heart! Fare ye well! Until we meet again! Exit sailor, pursued by bear! Onwards, to adventure!”  
And with his admittedly confusing monologue out of the way, Sea Hawk leapt into action, and in a matter of moments, the anchor was weighed, the sail drawn, and the ship pushed off its moorings and out into the harbour.  
Mermista stood there, arms crossed, watching that red scarf disappear out of view, until her father came over and rather forcibly escorted her back to the palace, glaring over his shoulder back out at the bay every so often. _Good riddance_ was what the King didn’t say.  
_I’ll miss you_ was what Mermista never told him.

She did notice that when it got late, and as the sun kissed the horizon, she looked out her window to see Sea Hawk’s new ship out in the harbour, rocking in the waves as night settled around it. She saw a tiny dot of light on deck, and if she squinted, she thought she could see a figure sitting on deck too. She smiled to herself, private and personal, watching it bob up and down in the peaceful dusk.  
Drifting over the bay, she heard violin music.  
Sad, mournful, lonely. It was that tune Sea Hawk had been humming to himself a few hours earlier as he’d waited for her to arrive.  
In a brilliant spark of memory, the words of the chorus came back to her as the soaring violin tugged at something in her chest, and her lips formed the words without thought.

_‘Leave her Johnny, leave her._   
_Oh leave her Johnny, leave her._   
_For the voyage is long_   
_and the winds don’t blow,_   
_and it’s time for us to leave her.’_

She buried her face in her hands, and definitely did _not_ cry that night.  
When Mermista woke that morning, his ship was gone. She imagined she could see it as a speck on the horizon, for her own sanity.  
He was gone.  
He was _gone._  
And what a hole he left to fill.

Each time he returned, it was heralded with song. She’d wake up one morning to see his ship in the harbour with the soaring violin echoing around the bay and her heart would leap in her chest.  
He never moored up in the docks. The King would probably arrest him if he did.  
But the year her father stepped down, leaving her as ruler, she had swum out to his boat and personally invited him to join her for dinner. Or something.  
She totally didn’t miss him.  
At all.  
Never.


End file.
